


Dinner Date

by commanderlurker (honeybee592)



Series: Cats, the V is silent [9]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 00:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16586846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeybee592/pseuds/commanderlurker
Summary: Cats invites Theron to dinner. It doesn't go as he expected.





	Dinner Date

**Author's Note:**

> Set before Chapter XII of KOTFE

Lana adjourns the meeting and everyone starts to drift away, except Theron. He just wants to run through this data one last time.

Cats bumps Theron’s hip with her own. “You want to come over for dinner?” Her voice is low, full of promise.

A shiver runs down Theron’s spine. “Sure, sounds great. I’ll bring the wine.” He smiles.

“Nineteen hundred, at the ship.”

Theron glances around. No one’s looking their way. He should kiss her. Just a peck. But he swallows instead and stares at his datapad. Cats swots his ass and walks away. The tingles last all afternoon.

*

At 18:57, Theron wanders onto Cats’ ship. He was expecting to have to call, or knock, but the door just opens. C2 meets him at the top of the steps. “Greetings, Agent Shan! Oh my, you’re early! Never mind. Follow me please.”

He follows C2 through the ship, but instead of stopping in the holodeck alcove where Theron has passed many a happy hour on Cats’ lap, they continue, almost right the way around, to the galley. C2 lets him in with a flourish. The table is set. For four. Shit. All his wild fantasies of drinking cheap strong wine straight from the bottle and then making out amidst plates of food evaporate as the bottle of said cheap strong wine almost slips through his suddenly sweat soaked fingers. Voices drift from down the corridor. Cats, and her parents.

Shit. Shit, fuck fuck--Theron shoves his hand into jacket, pushing the box of condoms as far in as he can. At least he showered and shaved and put on clean clothes--

“Theron!” Cats slides her arm around his waist and kisses him, soft and deep. Her parents squeeze past them, saying hi. His face heats up from embarrassment at such an overt display of affection in front other people--the parents, no less.

“So punctual!” Mr Starstreaker says. “I like that.”

“You must be hungry,” Mrs Starstreaker says.

“I’ll bring the appetisers!” C2 announces.

Theron’s too hot. He shrugs his jacket off and catches a whiff of his deodorant. At least it’s doing its job. He’s ushered into a chair. Cats sits next to him, her parents opposite. He can’t help but feel that this is an interview. He’s not going to get the job. He doesn’t even know what the job is. He doesn’t remember applying.

“Good to see you taking the time to relax,” Mrs Starstreaker says. Right now, Theron is wound tighter than he’s been in weeks.

Mr Starstreaker gestures for the wine bottle that Theron’s still clinging to. Theron hands it over for inspection. “Ah, Zakuulian shiraz. Strong and cheap. I like your style!” He laughs and pops the cork with his teeth.

“Thank you,” Theron whispers.

C2 brings the first course. Shrimp cocktails in sunade glasses. With tiny umbrellas. What decade has he walked into? He looks around, trying to assess the etiquette that he’s sure he’s being judged on. Mrs Starstreaker just says “eat!” and they start eating. Theron lifts up his tiny three pronged fork and notices his hand shaking. He can’t be that nervous, surely. He’s been in worse situations. Literal life-threatening situations. This is just dinner. Cats nudges him and gives him a reassuring smile. There’s a piece of shrimp stuck to her chin. Already. He almost wipes it away with his thumb.

The shrimp cocktail is actually pretty good. C2 distributes cloth napkins, which Cats makes liberal use of. At least Mr and Mrs Starstreaker are easy to make conversation with. Theron just has to ask an open question and away they go. This is a far cry from when he last spent any considerable amount of time with them. Back when he’d gone to offer his condolences, after Darth Marr’s ship had blown up with Cats on it, they weren’t nearly so chirpy. Then, neither was he. But just like then, being in their presence, sharing their company, eating their food, making light hearted jokes at the expense each other and their daughter, makes Theron feel funny. In a good way. All warm and fuzzy. Like a hug.

Over four courses, they chat about past missions, past smuggling jobs. Mr Starstreaker makes a show of tapping his nose whenever someone mentions pulling a fast one on the Republic. Theron can’t help but grin at the dumb gesture.

They retreat to the familiar alcove for dessert. Cheese and crackers, sweet jams and sharp chutneys. Mr Starstreaker brings out a bottle of whiskey. Real whiskey. Not swamp whiskey. It’s golden and smokey. Something to savour. Mr Starstreaker doesn’t skimp on the shots, either, passing Theron a full third of a glass.

By the end of dessert, Theron’s close to being relaxed. He’s genuinely happy to be here, listening to stories of Cats’ potty training. He’s laughing and not just because the situation calls for it. Mr and Mrs Starstreaker cosy up on the seats. When Mrs Starstreaker’s halfway through telling them about a cantina fight she started as a way of escaping a deal gone sour, Mr Starstreaker noses her neck, peppering her with kisses. She doesn’t skip a beat, just keeps talking. Theron forces himself to maintain eye contact--but not too much, remember to blink. This level of open affection is foreign to him. Seeing your girlfr--someone’s parents getting all handsy is kinda gross, right? Anyway, if Cats did that to him, he’d lose his train of thought and come to a stuttering halt.

Cats’ hand wanders, resting on his thigh for a minute before finding its way up to play with the hair on the nape of his neck. It’s… nice, if distracting. When his dick starts stirring, he clears his throat and pulls away. Cats lets go. The space she puts between them makes Theron feel bad, but he’s just--dinner with the parents is one thing. Getting an erection is another thing entirely.

He puts down his empty whiskey glass and stretches. “I should probably head off.”

Cats gives him the puppy eyes. “You don’t want to stay?”

Stay here? The night? With her parents a couple of cabins away?

“Theron,” Mr Starstreaker says. “You don’t need to be so coy. We’ll be doing exactly what you’ll be doing.” He even winks.

Theron’s about to clam up. The blood is already rushing to his face. But he’s been on the backfoot this whole evening and that’s not how Theron operates. Time to go on the offensive. “What, sleeping?”

Mr Starstreaker laughs so hard he has to wipe tears from his eyes. “Sleeping! Is that what you kids call it? Ha! Ha ha!”

Cats stands and takes Theron’s hand. She drags him up. “Come on, Theron, before Dad has a heart attack. Goodnight! Thanks for dinner, use protection” she calls over her shoulder.

“Uh, yeah, thank you,” Theron echoes. They leave Mr Starstreaker still crying from laughter and Mrs Starstreaker giving her husband the glad eye. Man, this family. Not like Theron has much to compare to.

They walk hand in hand towards Cats’ cabin, but Cats stops at the steps to the airlock. “You don’t have to stay. I just thought you might like to.” She slips her hand from his and takes a step so she’s in front of him. This close, he has to look up at her. Just a bit. Not much. She rests her hands on his hips, then slides them around until she’s cupping his ass. She bumps her crotch against his. “We don’t even have to have sex.”

“You’re presenting a compelling argument,” he says. “And I always want to have sex with you.” Shit, did he just say that out loud? How much whiskey did he have? Too much, clearly.

Cats grins and takes his hand again. “Come on then, lover boy.”

Theron gulps. He doesn’t know how he’s going to keep up.

*

Consciousness worms its way through Cats. She reaches out for Theron, keeps reaching, he’s got to be here somewhere--

She tips and falls. She lands awkwardly, scraping her knee on the deck. She lies there, wondering what happened. Not just how she ended up on the floor, but why. She was doing something, searching… for Theron. He’d stayed. They’d had dinner with her parents, gotten a bit handsy, and he’d stayed. She kneels and surveys the bed. He’s not here any more.

She dresses in yesterday’s clothes but balks at putting her boots on, slips her bunny slippers on instead, and shuffles through the ship. Mom and Dad are already up. She sits down and a caf materialises before her.

“Is Theron in the ‘fresher?” she asks. She starts drinking.

“Don’t think so…”

“Haven’t seen him.”

“Agent Shan exited the ship at oh-five thirty-two this morning, Master,” C2 chirps.

Cats frowns. “How?”

“I granted him permission to exit.”

“Why?”

C2 squeaks as he shifts on his feet, a sure sign he’s activated his nervousness protocol. “He requested permission to leave. He said he had a meeting to attend and was already late. I didn’t think you would appreciate being woken to permit his egress, so I took the initiative. I can assure no, no one came on board during the seven seconds the hatch was open.”

Cats deflates. Sure, there are early risers in the Alliance, Theron among them, but no one has meetings at five thirty in the morning.

“Should I have denied him exit, Master?” C2 sounds worried.

“No, I suppose not. He’s not a prisoner.”

“Would you like another caf, Master?”

“Go on.” Cats holds out her mug and caf is poured. She takes a sip and tears prick at the corners of her eyes. Oh. Oh no. She’s not crying, is she? Tears leak and dribble down her cheeks. Oh. She is crying. She’s sobbing.

A chair scrapes and Cats is bundled up in a set of arms. “Oh my girl, my baby girl.” Mom’s strong arms hold her.

“He--didn’t--stay,” Cats sobs. “He--never--stays. He’s ashamed of me.”

Dad joins in the hug. His stubbles catches in Cats’ hair. “He isn’t ashamed. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Cats. He’s besotted with you. He’s just an idiot man.”

Both Mom and Cats snort. One produces more snot than the other. Dad continues to natter about the general shortcomings of his fellow sex. Mom nods and mmm hmms every now and then. He assures Cats that despite being a smart, competent man capable of getting himself out of any situation he’s managed to get himself into, Theron’s not well versed in matters of the heart. “I’m sure Master Zho did his best, but those jedi are all emotionally stunted. A child needs to learn more than how to meditate. They need to learn how to love.”

Fresh waves of tears flow down Cats’ cheeks. “You know about his childhood? He’s never told me. He only said that his mom left. He doesn’t know who his father is.”

Mom and Dad are quiet a long moment, then Mom says, “When you… when you were gone, when he came to the house. He told us then.”

Cats hiccup-cries at the knowledge that her parents know more about her boy--no. He’s not her boyfriend. He’s just her bedfriend. Occasional bedfriend. Often not even in the bed bedfriend. Sex friend. Maybe that’s all she can expect him to be. Fine. But he doesn't have to sneak off every time. “I don’t even know why I like him! He’s boring! All he does is work. Alliance this, Alliance that. Arcann has to be defeated and this is how we’re gonna do it.” She does her best impression of him through all the tears and snot.

“Is the sex good?” Mom asks.

Cats laughs. “I suppose so. He’s a good kisser.”

“Mmm hmm.”

They’re all silent a moment. Cats pulls herself free of the hug to finish her caf. It’s lukewarm.

“Give him time,” Dad says. “He’ll pull himself together when he realises what he’s got.”

“But what if he never realises?”

Dad hmms. “That’ll be his loss, then. And you can make a move on that Vector man. He’s really nice.”

“Dad!”

Dad ruffles Cats’ hair, making it more matted than it already is.

“Seriously though. If you’re not going to make a move on him, we are.”

Cats snorts. “He’s all yours. Just remember the rules.”

“Always use a condom?”

“No one on the ship but family.” Cats gets up and stretches. She probably has a meeting to get to by now. A real meeting. She sniffs her armpit. Eh, clean enough.

Mom and Dad give her the thumbs up. She’ll be okay. They’ll both be okay.


End file.
